


Wrong

by bornforwar_archivist



Series: Denial [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2020-03-17 10:51:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18963784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornforwar_archivist/pseuds/bornforwar_archivist
Summary: By EchidnaSecond in the "Denial" series. Buffy continues to deny the fact that she is attracted to Spike.





	Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Delenn, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Born For War](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Born_For_War), which closed in 2015. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in March 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Born For War collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bornforwar).
> 
> Summary: Buffy continues to deny the fact that she is attracted to Spike. 
> 
> Spoilers: Everything from season 6 (lets just be safe since I don't know if I'll add more parts to this fic.)

She slammed the door behind her as she entered her bedroom.   
  
“God! I hate him! I hate him so much!" she cursed beneath her breath. Her heart pounded ferociously against the walls of her chest. “Why did I go back? Stupid Buffy! Stupid! What an idiot!" she continued as she paced around in circles.   
  
She practically tore her shirt off as she tried to undress. Kicking her shoes off, she fidgeted with the buttons of her jeans, struggling to unbutton them. Rage controlled her hands and her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. She breathed in deeply as she tried to calm herself. After the third long exhalation she succeeded and returned to the task of getting her jeans off. This time she was triumphant. In her underwear, she walked across the hall towards the bathroom. She entered the room and quickly turned the faucet. Within a few seconds warm water ran through her fingers. She unclasped her bra and slid off her panties, stepping into the hot shower. Her mind raced. Flashes of her most recent encounter with Spike kept on tormenting her. The way he had grabbed her, toyed with her neck, ran his hands across her body, the way…   
  
“God! This is sick… this is wrong… this is…" as she spoke, she remembered how it felt to have his body crushed against hers, the swelling in his pants against her pelvis. It sent a bolt of electricity from her stomach straight to nub between her legs. Instinctively, she pushed her legs together, increasing the pressure at her core. She was torn away from her thoughts by the sound of a door slamming shut. It came from downstairs.   
  
“Dawn?" she asked.   
  
Promptly, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around herself as she stepped out of the shower.   
  
“Dawn?" she repeated as she exited the bathroom. “AH!" she screamed as she bumped into someone that was coming from the direction of the stairs. “Spike?" she whispered, trying not to wake Dawn.   
  
“Yeah, it’s me. I was talkin’. You never let me finish, you always do-“ He spoke loudly and quickly, but the words just seemed to vanish when he noticed how she looked.   
  
Her hair was drenched. Water dripped from the ends of her now dark strings and travelled down her willowy arms. His eyes focused on one particular drop, which journeyed from her jaw line, down her neck, over her collarbone and disappeared into the valley between her covered breasts. His eyes accompanying the little drop in its voyage. He imagined it continued over her lean abdomen, circled its way around her navel and continued south, all the way through to the mountain of dark curls where her legs came together. Oh, how he wished he was that drop of water!   
  
“What are you doing here?"   
  
He didn’t hear her question. His attention was now focused on how small the towel was. It hung over her buttocks, barely covering it.   
  
“What-“ She started to ask again when she noticed where his gaze fell.   
  
She desperately tried to pull the towel downwards to cover her legs but, as she did so, it started unwrapping at the top, almost falling. Spike caught his breath as he watched. Fortunately, Buffy’s Slayer instincts came to her rescue as she grabbed the falling piece of fabric, covering herself just in the nick of time. She glanced at him to find a noticeable look of disappointment on his face.   
  
“What are you doing here?" she repeated, still whispering.   
  
“I-“ he struggled to find an explanation, but he couldn’t think. At that moment, all rational thoughts had packed their bags and left his brain and it was a completely different part of his anatomy that was doing the thinking for him.   
  
“Spike?" she called. She was getting very uncomfortable under his intense stare, but at the same time the way his eyes undress her made her visibly aroused.   
  
“I-“ he shook his head as if trying to snap out of her thrall over him. “I was… talkin’… hum… you left… I-I was talkin’…"   
  
“Yes, we’ve established that you were talking… and?" as she spoke she tightened her grip on the towel.   
  
“Yeah! Talkin’ , right. You left and I was still talkin’… and you… you-“   
  
“Spike, you’re babbling!" she whispered angrily. “And you’re going to wake up Dawn! Now why are you here?"   
  
“I-I…" he struggled and finally said pointing at her: “I can’t think with you lookin’ like that."   
  
“What?! Spike, go home!" she turned on her heels and made her way to her room. He followed her.   
  
“Buffy, we have to talk." He said loudly as he entered the bedroom.   
  
“Shhhh! You’ll wake up Dawn!" she spat under her breath as she walked over to close the door. “We have nothing to talk about, noth-“   
  
She wasn’t able to finish her sentence. Her mouth was cover by Spike’s in a bruising and demanding kiss. Buffy struggled, trying to push him away, but he rammed her against the door and snatched both her arms in a tight grip. With his mouth pressed against hers, Spike thrust his hips into hers. She groaned in pleasure. Ferociously, he pushed his tongue in between her lips and ravaged her mouth, without ever relieving the pressure at their pelvises. When it became apparent that she wasn’t struggling anymore, he released her arms from his grip. His hands were now free to roam over her body. The right one made its way to her neck, trying desperately to deepen the kiss, if that was at all possible. The other seized her leg, pulling it upwards and forcing it to bend around his body. From the back of her knee, his fingers slid up her thigh until they reached her ass. Without warning, his hand captured one round cheek and squeezed so tight. She would probably have a nasty bruise the next day. Slowly, his right hand drifted over her collarbone, her shoulder, down the length of her arm until it landed on her hips, which where still covered by the wet towel. At an ever more sluggish pace his fingers reached for the brim of the fabric and tugged it upwards, exposing her mountain of damp curls to the rough material of his jeans. Teasingly, he pressed harder against her, swaying his hips upwards; the growing bulge in his pants crushing the small nub where her feminine folds came together. This sent a shockwave of pleasure through her entire body.   
  
“Ah!" she gasped between bruising kisses.   
  
She could feel his lips grinning against her cheek. A small measure of anger assaulted her and she whished she had the strength to stop this, push him away, throw him out of her home, out of her life, but her growing need wouldn’t allow it. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him, bucked her hips towards his and another jolt of excruciating satisfaction took over her senses.   
  
Spike’s hand, which still gripped the edge of her towel, now snailed its way between her legs. His fingers lazily brushed against her folds. He was amazed at how wet she was and he couldn’t help but pant at the realization of her need for him. Her lips could wish him away from her job, away from her friends and family, away from her life, but her body told him differently. It invited him in, to take her, to possess her, to make her his. Just as he was about to start exploring her core their incantation was broken by the sound of footsteps from the hall.   
  
“Buffy? Are you home?"   
  
“It’s Dawn!" Buffy realized opening her eyes widely to stare at Spike’s. Promptly, she pushed him away, pulling the towel down. She looked around frenetically “You have to hide. Better yet, jump out the window." She commanded shoving him in the direction of the window.   
  
“What are you-“   
  
Buffy covered his mouth with her hand:   
  
“Will you shut up? She’ll hear you!" she whispered.   
  
“So?"   
  
“What do you mean ‘so’? So she-“ Buffy stopped immediately as she saw the doorknob turn. Without thinking she pushed the vampire behind the door as it opened.   
  
“Buffy is that you?" a very sleepy Dawn tried to walk into the room but found her way bared by the figure of her sister standing in front of her.   
  
The door was only open a few inches and Dawn attempted to walk over the threshold but Buffy stood her ground, her left hand securely holding the door in its place.   
  
“Are you ok?" Dawn inquired frowning.   
  
“Yeah! I’m fine! Why shouldn’t I be? Everything is OK!" Buffy answered, sounding a little too peppy.   
  
“Are you sure?"   
  
As her little sister spoke Buffy suddenly felt something cold and wet in the back of her knee. After the initial alarm she realized it could only be Spike’s mouth kissing and suckling her skin. She tried to restrain her emotions and answer as naturally as possible.   
  
“I’m fine, know go to bed… you- you’ve got school tomorrow." She couldn’t help stuttering as Spike’s mouth made its way up her thigh. Instinctively, she hid her body behind the door and her sister remained unaware of what was happening.   
  
“Just one thing. Willow phoned. She said she was going to pull an all-nighter at Mary’s… No, it wasn’t Mary! It was a weird name… What was it?" Dawn frowned as she struggled to remember the name.   
  
In the meantime, Buffy was fighting her own battle: trying to keep from falling as Spike’s ministrations made her legs buckle. He had pushed the towel up and exposed her round butt-cheeks to his delight. After licking and kissing her left cheek, he now nibbled at the place where the buttocks and thighs came together. His hand snaked in between her legs, pushing them apart. At first she resisted, but as she felt him sink his teeth into the tender flesh of her behind she obliged and slightly parted her legs.   
  
Meanwhile, Dawn rambled on various names:   
  
“Monica, Macy… No, that’s not it."   
  
“Dawn, it doesn’t matter. Forget it" Buffy sighed in frustration. She had to put a stop to this “This is wrong, this is so wrong!" she thought, but what affected her more was the fact that she was actually a little aroused by the whole situation.   
  
All her nerve endings were focused on the peroxide blonde, whose fingers now pushed her nether lips apart. She almost gasped in pleasure at the feel of his cold index finger pressing against her smaller folds as if searching for her core. But she was aware that he knew perfectly well where everything was, he didn’t have to look for anything. He was teasing her. This was too much. She relieved herself by disguising her gasp of pleasure as a sigh of frustration of her sister’s torturous and never ending list of names.   
  
“DAWN! I don’t care who it was. Go to bed now!" it took all her strength to get those words out of her mouth without faltering.   
  
“OK! No need to go all psycho on me. God!" Dawn responded “Goodnight!" And with that she walked away.   
  
Quickly, Buffy slammed the door shut and leaned her head on it as Spike’s finger traced a tortuous path across her swollen labia. With great difficulty she managed to open her eyes. She saw him, he was knelt next to her, his head was also resting on the door and his left hand was between her legs making her lose all sense of control.   
  
“Pleeease…" she moaned closing her eyes. “ This is wrong… Leave." She begged between panting breaths.   
  
“Are you sure?" he asked never stopping his ministrations. His fingers travelled through her sex until they reached her clit.   
  
“Ah!" she moaned at the contact.   
  
She started bucking her hips backwards against his fingers.   
  
“Please…" she repeated.   
  
“What?"   
  
God! It felt good. It was wrong but it felt so right. No one had ever touched her like that, not until that night a week ago. In seconds all the events of that evening assaulted her. It only served to heighten her desire. Suddenly, the memory of the morning after came crashing down. “I knew! I knew the only thing better that killing a Slayer would be f-“ That was it. The last thing Spike saw before he passed out was Buffy’s fist coming straight at him.   
  


To Be Continued

 


End file.
